


Hands

by Charshee



Category: Alice (TV 2009)
Genre: Character fluff, F/M, Hatter - Freeform, One Shot, character exploration, for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charshee/pseuds/Charshee
Summary: Hatter and his hands. This is just fluff for now, it may turn into something more in the future (which will probably change the rating).





	

Hatter had done some truly loathsome things with those hands.

He'd only discovered his strange, supernatural affinity for swinging a punch that had shattered bone like glass just before he'd been roped into the resistance. Before then, moving tea for the White Queen cartel, he'd relied mostly on bullets. For more intimate encounters with clients that couldn't pay or suppliers who played games he had favoured a particularly nasty hooked dagger, but he'd taken that out into the woods and buried along with it's memories long ago.

Those hands had killed, maimed, and tortured. They'd caused such pain it made him dizzy whenever it crossed his mind.

Slight of hand had come easily to him, like something he was remembering. It appealed to him after he began working with the resistance, he'd wanted to gain a little subtlety, soften his methods. It felt wrong to use such brutality in support of a noble cause. Card tricks and vanishing acts kept clients busy while they waited for their fix. For some clients he'd worked on more complex things, vanishing himself, for example. He'd dabbled in hypnosis, spent hours in the library pouring over spell books and psychology books (which had slipped between the worlds). He was very good at suggestion.

Years before Alice, when he played both sides of the board, a black market sort of client had asked him to bring over some samples of his newest stock, including some choice teas like elation, adoration, and relief. Something had him on guard the moment he walked in to the familiar luxury apartment. Even the long legged brunette in her usual lounge chair, sipping each tea in silence as her husband talked price with Hatter, couldn't distract him as she normally did.

He compensated for his anxiety by beckoning the wife, who the husband had never introduced, to lean forward over the table, and pulling a tiny vial of crystal clear tea out from behind her ear with a flourish. She let out the first sound he'd ever heard her make since he began supplying them two years previously, a gasp of surprise that became a delighted laugh. The husband had glared as Hatter brought his face close to hers and held the vial between them, met her dark eyes with his, and said,

"Now this, this is something special. Not yet left the casino, officially anyway, fresh out of the juiciest of oysters."

"What is it?" The woman breathed, eyes unfocused, unsure whether she was caught by the crystal vial or his smile.

Hatter thought her voice was like honey in a warm mug of "surrender".

"Ecstasy."

The husband cleared his throat, the sound cracking through the still,  
"How much?"

Hatter leant back in his chair, turning a slightly wider smile to the husband; The woman lingered with her elbows on the table for a moment, her cheeks a little flushed, before laying back onto the lounge, trying to even out her breathing.

"I hear you have some buddies among the suits." Hatter said, spinning the little vial on his finger like a top. "Brothers in _arms_ , you know."

The husband frowned, Hatter held the vial up to catch the light,

"I heard rumours about how they get this, it's really something else. I've tried a little myself, even a drop was a ride like no other." He flicked his gaze over to the lounge, where her eyes were fixed on his. The husband reached for the vial, but Hatter pulled it back.

"I'll get you what you want. How many people?"

"Ah," Hatter held up a finger, "be careful with what sort of questions you're asking. We already know they're moving three scarabs worth to the White Rabbit next week and just what's onboard. One of those scarabs is ours."

"An entire scarab?!" The husband exclaimed.

"I can get you a pint of this stuff." Hatter said, tapping this vial with his finger.

"How do we know it's worth it?" The woman said, drawing her husbands gaze.

Hatter grinned and leant towards her, her husband watched as she did the same.

"Stick out your tongue." Hatter said, getting a little woozy himself, an occasional side effect of his own suggestions. He opened the vial with a pop and a delicious smell began to fill the air, she was shaking with anticipation as he dropped two tiny drops of the tea, which suddenly looked iridescent as it fell onto her tongue.

She shut her mouth and swallowed, unchanged for a moment. When her eyes locked onto Hatters, wide and beautiful, he wondered who was doing the hypnotizing. Those eyes rolled up as she fell back onto the lounge, back arched and mouth open. Her husbands eyes never left her, when she moaned he span back to face Hatter,

"Give it to me."

Hatter obliged, and the man dropped three greedy drops onto his tongue. His hands started shaking before he even swallowed, Hatter had to catch the vial in mid air as it fell.

They ordered a liter of passion, a liter of relief, a pint of dedication that Hatter had a feeling the husband had gotten for the wife, and a pint of ecstasy. Hatter had left them with the vial, knowing he was leaving them with something that would consume them. Also knowing that the following week a scarab full of weapons would be making an unexpected pit stop where it would be intercepted by some of the resistance's rag tag troops. He didn't mind moralizing, didn't mind weighing his actions, two good for every bad. It was a new thing, but he was getting better.

Anyway, he didn't need a moral compass, he had Alice now.

He'd been leaving the couples apartment when he'd been jumped by three besuited thugs who ran in the same circles as the husband. They'd surrounded him in a narrow alleyway, one of their bullets tore a hole through his jacket, but it was a warning shot, one of few, they wanted information. He was quicker than they, his hand going to his own gun, and downed two before clashing with the last. They struggled, both weapons being wrestled from their hands. The man had one of Hatter's arms pinned to the brick wall, and was fighting to keep him there. Hatter cocked back his other arm swung his fist at him, hard.

He missed, his fist slammed into the brick. To both men's surprise the stone crumbled under the force of his strike, leaving a deep indent in the wall.  
  
The thug's grip loosened as he stared at the damage Hatter had done, but Hatter himself recovered quickly, pulling his arm free and aiming another punch at his attacker.

After that his ability became legendary, amongst his allies and his enemies. It earned him a fearful respect in a way that dagger never had.

He'd delivered the goods two weeks later, the husband swore he knew nothing of the attack, though he couldn't hide his surprise when Hatter turned up. He'd shooed his wife from the room as soon as Hatter strolled in, which made the conman smirk to himself.

It was the last delivery he made to the house, and he told the man as much. The man was more focused on the bottle of ecstasy in the crate than on Hatters resignation.

A few months later the woman turned up at his tea shop, pounding on his office door. Her eyes were wild and surrounded by circles so dark all the makeup in wonderland couldn't disguise them.

She tried to be coy, asking about new emotions and where he'd been for so long, but he knew why she was there.

When he told her there was no more ecstasy, none in the shop, and slow production in the casino, her eyes filled with desperate tears.

Guilt was making his head ache. She was telling him how empty she felt without it, how numb. So he tilted her chin up with a gentle touch and pressed a kiss to her lips. He could give her what she was looking for, for a little while at least.

Perhaps violence wasn't the most morally objectionable thing he did with those hands.

When he met Alice he thought her eyes were the colour of joy speckled with honesty. He felt a draw to her like nothing else. To those oyster emotions that clouded the air she breathed, and all the promises she kept. When they kissed he wondered if this was how his people had discovered the effect of oyster emotions.

When she spoke her voice was scarlet pride and emerald sincerity, warm and earthy. When she moaned his name it was petal pink adoration and teal blue trust.

He had done some terrible things with his hands. But every thing he did for her, every emotion he earned, washed them clean.


End file.
